


Let me share your burden

by orphan_account



Series: Strive To Be Alive [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Terminal Illnesses, as in sent to the floor, grantaire is a bit floored, i thought of a thing, then had to write it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 17:05:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire really doesn't want to tell anyone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>"It's my business if one of my friends is seriously ill. Don't think I didn't see what building you went into." My heart figuratively stops. If he knows, he'll tell Combeferre, who'll tell Courf, who'll tell Jehan, who'll tell Eponine, who'll tell Barhorel, who'll tell Feuilly, who'll tell Bossuet, who'll tell Joly, who'll tell Muischetta, who'll tell Cosette, who'll tell Marius, and before I know it, the whole of Paris will know about my little condition. That's something I'd rather not have thank-you very much. My mind races, I try to find a way out of this without telling Apollo, and I can't. I'm fucked.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Let me share your burden

**Author's Note:**

> YOU MUST READ THE FIRST TWO PARTS!! well, you don't have to, but this'll make more sense

I walk out of the hospital building, hands buried deep in my pockets, slouching along while looking down. The appointment didn't go well. The doctor was shocked and dismayed at how much the artery blockage had grown by. He stared at me in dismay _"Did you drink? Did you smoke?"_ he asked frantically, pushing me onto the cheap bed in the white room I was in before. _"Yes,"_ I'd replied, _"I've done both."_ I'd added in my mind that I'd done both more heavily than I've ever done before, which is saying something. The doctor was disapproving, and stared at me with condemning eyes. The doctor said he'd move the surgery forward by two months because of this, a surgery to put a stent in my heart to clear the blockage, but he didn't see happy about it. He was mumbling all the way through the rest of the appointment. I couldn't care less what he thinks of me. It's my life, and I'll spend it however I want. It's that same defiant attitude that got me kicked out of my house at sixteen, made me homeless for a good six years more, until I found Eponine. She was a street rat, like me, and taught me the ropes. We worked together, and brought a crappy flat together when we had enough money. She's the one who introduced me to the rest of the Les Amis and Apollo, a fact that I'm eternally grateful for. Since then, I've managed to get into college on a scholarship for art and philosophy. I really don't know how that happened. I think Jehan sent off my application without my knowledge, or someone else did. He's first on my list of suspects, though. I've also brought a less crappy flat with Ep, because I've managed to sell some of my paintings and done caricatures of people on the street. This is a couple of years before The Heart Thing, as I'm calling it. A couple of years of drinking, smoking, cynicism, being totally useless to anyone and adoration directed at Apollo.

 

That freckled, ginger, Jehan-like man wasn't in his room today. I wonder if he's alright, or if he's in the ground. I hope someone will miss him like they won't miss me. 

 

A fat drop of rain from the clearing clouds drops unexpectedly onto my scalp, I jump, then run my hands through my curls, glancing furtively around to see if anyone noticed my little display. I remember that I left my coat at the Musain, but I'm wearing a light grey scarf as a belt. These jeans are too tight to need a belt, anyways. I pull it on, wrap it around my neck quickly, to protect it from the cold breeze that's still blowing, even though the rain's eased off. There's no bus waiting for me this time, and I sigh, make my way over to the bus stop, where there's one man staring out the opposite side, ignoring me entirely. I sigh again, lean onto the plastic rail that you can't really lean on; you just slip off. I made a passing remark that they should be called slips, once. I lift my head to check the time that the bus is meant to come. It declares that it will come in ten minutes. I look away, bringing out my phone to check for messages, I'd turned it off after my headlong sprint from the Musain. Sure enough, my phone buzzes with messages, coming in so fast that it just vibrates continuously. Messages, from each Les Amis, all along the lines of: _R! get your arse back here!_ or _R, please come back_ or _c'mon just tell us whats wrong._ The one from Joly makes me laugh, the man on the other side of the bus shelter glances over to quickly for me to see his face, but he relaxes infinitesimally. 

 

Joly says in his message, _R!!!!! come back, if ur immune system is down, u could catch genital herpes!!!_ He's a hypochondriac, and constantly worried that him or one of his friends is going to catch some new, incurable disease. It's one of the things that endears him to many people, myself included.

 

My phone buzzes one final time and my breath stops. The message is from Enjolras. I click on it, my fingers shaking. It simply reads: _I hope you're ok_. Maybe it's not a serenade, but it's certainly one of the nicest things Enjolras has ever said to me. My eyes flicker to the time of the message. It was sent thirty seconds ago. Maybe Combeferre forced him to send the message. It doesn't really matter I suppose, he sent it! My mood greatly improved to what it was a minute ago, I start to hum quietly, trying not to disturb the unknown man on my left. Thinking of him, I glance once more towards the hunched figure. There's something familiar about him. I narrow my eyes, staring at him, trying think how I knew the curve of the back, and the broadness of the shoulders. My vision shifts. The graceful arch of back now could only belong to one man. _Enjolras._

 

My mind whirls into action. What in the fricking hell is he doing here? I think back to when I was just entering the hospital for my appointment. The flash of blonde and red. It clicks in my mind. He followed me. Why? I have no fucking idea. I stop humming, and gather up the thin strains of courage within me to confront him. I draw in a deep breath, and say, "Enjolras?"

 

Enjolras tenses immediately, and I know him well enough to know what's going through his mind. _Shit._ He turns, slowly, carefully, around to face me, his face a strange mixture of guilt, defiance and annoyance at being caught out. But still beautiful enough to make my heart ache. "What are you doing here?" I can only muster up the palest amount of anger towards him. I can never be angry at Apollo. 

 

He scratches the back of his head, showing the muscles of his bicep. My eyes are drawn to the movement. "Catching the bus." He answers, slightly defensive. 

 

This makes me narrow my eyes, the strings of anger are becoming more fully- formed now. He's been following _me,_ not the other way around. "At this specific location?" I gesture towards the hospital building behind us.

 

"Er, yes." 

 

"Cut the bullshit, Enjy, why the frick are you doing following me?" I cross my arms, trying to stay angry. I stare him down as he fidgets. A few seconds later I widen my eyes in disbelief. My Fearless leader is _nervous._ "Are you nervous?" I ask disbelievingly.

 

"No." He fidgets even more, plainly showing that he's nervous, even though his voice doesn't show it. I crook one eyebrow, a skill that cost me many hours in front of a mirror. "Yes." Enjolras admits with reluctance. 

 

"Good." Even though I'd love it if he trailed me like a puppy dog, no normal person would want that. I ask again, more firmly this time. "What are you doing following me?" 

 

"Just wanted to see if you were alright. Why did you go to the hospital?" He answers, and then asks a question I really don't want to answer, but he's back to normal, demanding, not asking and un-nervous. I breath an internal sigh of relief. 

 

"None of your business." 

 

"It's my business if one of my friends is seriously ill. Don't think I didn't see what building you went into." My heart figuratively stops. If he knows, he'll tell Combeferre, who'll tell Courf, who'll tell Jehan, who'll tell Eponine, who'll tell Barhorel, who'll tell Feuilly, who'll tell Bossuet, who'll tell Joly, who'll tell Muischetta, who'll tell Cosette, who'll tell Marius, and before I know it, the whole of Paris will know about my little condition. That's something I'd rather not have thank-you very much. My mind races, I try to find a way out of this without telling Apollo, and I can't. I'm fucked. The only way I can think out of the whole of Paris knowing is telling Enjolras. Craptastic. 

 

I know, however, that if I tell Enjolras a secret, he won't tell a soul, unless it effects The Cause. This certainly doesn't.

 

Enjolras is looking at me expectantly, and I heave in a shaky breath. My chest flares with pain. I bring one hand up automatically to try and soothe the burning from the outside, my lip twists into a grimace, and Enjolras scoots closer, worry in his eyes. I hold up a hand, silently telling him to back off, I don't know what I'll do if he gets too close. Probably jump him. "Fine," I sigh reluctantly, "Come back to mine. I'll tell you there." Enjolras looks triumphant, and he nods his head in agreement. My mind is full of the thought: _Enjolras is actually coming to my apartment!_ I suddenly worry about the mess of bottles laying over the rooms. I also worry that Ep is there, although she's probably outside searching for me. I feel guilty that I'm causing my friends so much trouble. 

 

The bus arrives, and Enjolras walks straight, victory blazing in his eyes. i slump onto the bus, pay my fare, sit on a bluish seat. Enjolras sits behind me, and I'm very, very aware of his presence near my back. My neck prickles in an oh-so-good way. I once more lean my head against the window, and watch Paris pass, almost horizontal shafts of sunlight making parts of her glow in the light of the setting sun. She's beautiful, but not as beautiful as Enjolras. I feel his eyes resting heavily on me, I try not to twitch under the intense scrutiny. The bus halts at the stop in front of the block of apartments where mine is. I stand abruptly, and I feel Apollo copying my movements. We walk quickly in silence, I'm almost having to trot to keep up with the taller man's strides. The block of flats is dingy, made entirely of concrete, but from an artist's viewpoint I can see beauty in the harsh angles and lines. My flat is on the second floor, we reach the door, I grasp for my keys in the pockets of my jeans. _C'mon, be there,_ I think as I pat down my pockets. I find them, and insert them into the various locks of the door. Enjolras raises an eyebrow. I shrug, "What? It's a tough neighborhood." I put my shoulder into the door and push my way inside. 

 

The flat's as messy as I feared, bottles strewn around from my three month drinking binge. I turn away to not see the inevitable look of disgust and disappointment on Apollo's face. I throw the keys onto the counter of the kitchenette, and throw myself down onto the couch. Enjolras sits prim, straight- backed on the other side. Rubbing my hands over my face and through my curls, eventually settling them in fists at my sides. Not waiting for anything, I dive straight in. "So you want to know what's wrong?" 

 

"Yes." Enjolras says firmly, I glance quickly at him, locking eyes for a brief moment. I don't know what I see there. 

 

"Fine." I sigh, my last way out stoppered. "I have heart disease. The slow, fatal kind. Blocked one artery, no transplant would help. I'm going into surgery to put a stent in me in two months time." I say it in a rush, and bury my face in my hands. Deathly silence emanates from the end of the couch. I snatch a quick peek, Enjolras is looking shocked and hurt. My face is in my hands again. Silence reigns for a couple of minutes. My heart pumps too fast. A small pang of pain pierces my heart. I reach up to rub my chest absently. The cheap fabric of the couch rustles as Enjolras moves closer.

 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Huh. That's strange, I'd have thought he'd ask about Jehan or Eponine, not himself. Is it me, or is there noticeable hurt in his voice. 

 

"Because nobody should have to deal with this except me, Enjolras! It's my problem, and no-one should have to be bothered by this! Besides, I'm useless anyway." My face is still buried in my hands, my voice muffled. 

 

His hands wrench mine away from my face. Bringing his face and mine close together, eyes blazing, Enjolras says, "You're not useless, R! You shouldn't have to bear this burden alone! I could- I mean, I and the rest of them could help!" I'm too shocked to register how close he is to me for a few seconds. He speaks with so much conviction, so much belief shining in his eyes. His thumbs rub soothing circles into my too- fast pulse- point. _Could this be reality?_

 

Enjolras begins to speak again, then realizes how close he put us. A blush strokes a feather light hand over his cheeks. I'm entranced. We lock eyes, and he leans in- I'm still in too much shock to do anything. My brain is malfunctioning. I'm in a drug- induced hallucination. This _can't_ be reality. We're leaning in, and our lips just about brush, and then he whips away. I'm frozen, staring at him. 

 

He mutters, "I have to go." and almost runs straight out the door. He obviously remembered who he was kissing. I need a drink. 

 

I reach down, and pick up a half- empty bottle of warm, cheap whiskey from the floor and fall into a lying position. I proceed to drink myself into a stupor.

**Author's Note:**

> TBC
> 
>  
> 
> feedback and comments are always appreciated!!


End file.
